I Will Buy You A New Life
by Kay Taylor
Summary: How did Quirrell break into Gringotts? How did he get the dragon's egg? Just how far will Bill and Charlie go to build a life together?


Bill wipes the sweat off his forehead and stands up, the air around him still glowing blue from the network of spells, a silvery tracing in the half-light. The vaults underneath Gringotts go on for miles and miles, and Bill is alone at the very foundation of the caverns, where all the spells are anchored. He leans against the wall, realising that it's drained him more than he thought it would, that every muscle in his body _aches_ as if he's been several hours on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
If anyone looked sideways at vault seven hundred and thirteen, they might see the magic there - laid deeper than goblin magic, woven into the stone of the walls and the cast iron of the door, shimmering and twisting like candle wax in water.  
  
Charlie wraps his arms around Bill, breathing in the smell of his brother's hair. It smells of soot and dust, and something is - _cold_ - about it, from the miles beneath the earth. Did you do it, he says quietly, lipping at his ear, drawing a warm tongue up Bill's neck as far as the earring. He tugs gently on the fang with his teeth, and is rewarded by a breathy gasp, Bill's hands going into his hair.  
  
Of course I did. All in place and hidden, Bill murmurs, and Charlie smiles into his brother's neck.   
  
They won't even know what's hit them, he whispers, kissing the pale skin underneath his mouth. You always were the best.  
  
Bill smiles back at him.   
  
Charlie slides his hands up and under Bill's shirt, cool hands drawing warm circles on his back. Of course. He leans in and kisses Bill's neck, grazing his teeth ever so slightly over the pulse points, and feels Bill shiver. _We're safe,_ Charlie thinks, and it makes him start to tremble, because it's all so fragile. This room, somewhere anonymous, half-way between Egypt and Romania, where two red-haired brothers can kiss in the streets without everyone knowing their parents, their brothers, their sister. He can feel Bill's heart hammering in his chest, and he slides his tongue along the perfect curve of his brother's jaw. But that doesn't mean it isn't true.  
  
Bill presses his lips to Charlie's, making him sigh into Bill's open mouth. He tugs slightly at Bill's hair, trying to pull him closer, trying as hard as he can to join them together in as many places as possible - hands, lips, chests, hips, thighs.   
  
I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, he says, and though it seems to come out of nowhere, the sudden darkening of Bill's eyes shows that he understands.  
  
Oh, Char, Bill whispers, and slides his hands down from Charlie's hair to start on the buttons of his shirt; quick deft movements, done a hundred times. I know. But we've done it now. He'll know, as soon as -   
  
Charlie nods quickly, looking down. I always thought I was the one with the dangerous job, he says simply, and starts to kiss Bill harder, running his hands over Bill's body. Trying to get rid of some of that strange, underground _cold_ that's still clinging to his lover.  
  
It wasn't dangerous, Bill corrects him, shivering slightly as Charlie's palms rub past his nipples. No-one even knows the spell is there. He leans in to kiss Charlie's bare neck, following the silvery line of old burn scars, clear as an ember path. Then they stop talking, with long, drawn-out kisses and warm hands on skin.  
  
It's in the _Daily Prophet_ that September, and Bill manages to pick up a copy on his next trip into Luxor. There's a little street running parallel to the bazaar, where the _real_ snake charmers and desert shamens go, and he picks up the wizarding news from home - the vault was broken, but nothing was taken.   
  
Bill crumples the newspaper into a little ball, his face white under the tan. He resists the urge to swear or lash out, because he's a Gringotts employee after all, and he's supposed to be pleased that the vault was empty. He takes a long drink of apple tea, watching the condensation trickling down the side of the glass, listening to the shouts of the merchants, the snatches of conversation -   
  
Isn't anywhere safe any more? Honestly, you'd have thought Gringotts -  
  
Well, I certainly hope their Curse Breakers -  
  
Bill sits in the bazaar for a long time, as the air cools and the sky turns from vivid blue to dusky purple over the Nile. He smoothes out the paper and reads it again. And again. And feels his chances of a life with Charlie slipping away.  
  
Charlie ducks to the side as the first blast of incandescent fire rips through the cave, making the air almost too hot to breathe. There's no way to use magic this close to a dragon, so he just ducks underneath the overhang and hopes, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.   
  
The scrabbling of claws on rubble and loose rocks. A deafening screech, and Charlie feels the first stab of panic, as if his limbs and heart were all turning into liquid. Move, you idiot, he mutters to himself, cradling the egg against his chest. Fucking _move_. And, incredibly, he manages to stand up, seeing the huge crouching bulk of the dragon in the darkness, looming over him with glittering eyes. Waiting for him to make a move. Charlie can't breathe, because the air is so hot and dry and it's like he's _suffocating_.   
  
Then, slowly, the terrible eyes start to fix on him, and the cave is filled with a low, rumbling growl.  
  
I've missed you, Charlie whispers, resting his head against the warmth of his brother's chest, feeling the slow steady pounding of his heartbeat. Bill doesn't answer, because he's too relieved to see Charlie in one piece. But Charlie understands, and clings to him - it's getting harder to tear themselves apart each time, and they're almost holding each other up. Charlie's hands in Bill's hair. The letter from Charlie - hastily scribbled, with ink blots and crossings-out - still clutched in one of Bill's hands.  
  
You didn't have to - Bill says, almost too soft to hear. He tries to smile, but it's coming out all wrong.  
  
Yes, I did, Charlie says simply. I love you. I want this.  
  
And for a moment, it's the most important thing in the world, more than anything.  
  
I got the egg, Charlie murmurs, a small note of pride creeping into his voice.   
  
Bill's eyes widen slightly, and he pulls away long enough to look over Charlie's shoulder. The egg has cooled down now - mottled green with black scorch-marks, the same scorch-marks on Charlie's arms and clothes.  
  
I can't believe you did it, Bill whispers, pulling Charlie closer to him. You could have been _killed_.  
  
Charlie smiles, and reaches up to kiss him. Slowly at first, brushing his lips against Bill's until he can't resist swiping his tongue across Bill's mouth, and Bill can smell the soot in his hair. Sighing softly, Bill sucks at Charlie's bottom lip, slow and good and perfect. You could have been killed, Bill says again when the kiss is over, winding his fingers in Charlie's hair, forcing him to look him in the eye. This is getting too bloody dangerous. But he's smiling as he says it.  
  
Later, they write to Quirrell - Charlie dictating, running his hands lazily through Bill's hair as the quill scratches across the parchment. One dragon egg. They remind him that it wasn't their fault that the vault was open. They remind him of their unflinching loyalty, of the dangers they've faced. They don't ask for much in return but the chance of a life together, away from their parents' hurt and disappointed faces, away from the crushing weight of all those _expectations_ that come when you're Gryffindors and Weasleys, not meant to be in love with your brother, not meant to want him so much you could scream.  
  
A dragon egg, and vault seven hundred and thirteen. Little things, and they know that it could add up to so much more. But as Charlie's arms go around Bill, and they blow on the parchment together to let the ink dry, thoughts of You-Know-Who are as far away as the dragon reserves, as insubstantial as the hex woven at the heart of Gringott's._  
_


End file.
